


The Call of the Sea

by Ireland_Ranger



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Captivity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Experimentation, Fish out of Water, Gen, Hurt Loki, Hurt/Comfort, Loki Angst, Loki Feels, Loki Needs a Hug, Loki-centric, Mermaid Loki, Merman Loki, No Slash, Pirates, Prince Thor, Prisoner Loki, Protective Thor, Psychological Torture, Psychological Trauma, Slave Loki, Slavery, Tattoos, Thor Is Not Stupid, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-30
Updated: 2017-08-08
Packaged: 2018-10-12 18:47:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10497279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ireland_Ranger/pseuds/Ireland_Ranger
Summary: Caught in a net, Loki finds himself in in a new, harsh reality. One where there are few kindnesses and many hardships. Freedom becomes a far gone concept.Tags may be subject to change. Constructive criticism welcome.





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize for any mistakes or errors I may have missed in editing. Let me know so I can adjust. I want this to enjoyable for readers and I know I tend to make awkward phrases. If anything is off for you, tell me.

He flailed in their grip as they pulled him from the net. 

His tail slapped rebelliously against the sopping deck and tried to swoop beneath his captors’ legs in an effort to make them slip. He succeeded with blindsiding a few, but the men who saw the attack sidestepped easily and doubled their efforts to pin his massive appendage. Their hands wound tightly around his arms and one of the sailors pinched Loki’s long neck between thick, callused fingers. 

He squirmed in defiance, arching his back and writhing. 

Still soaked and slippery from the water he had been abducted from, he had a good chance at escape. They were struggling to maintain their hold on him due to the slickness of his smooth skin and their hands were sliding all over his body. Realizing the small, but vital upper hand he held with this, he doubled his panicked efforts. He yanked away from them with everything he had, twisting as much as possible so they were forced to release him.

He slithered free and the sailors stumbled and tripped with the momentum as they tried to stay upright. They scattered about the deck before lunging forward to recapture their prize. Seeing this as his chance for freedom, Loki made a frantic move for the side of the ship. 

He scrambled across the floorboards, slipping between groping fingers and limbs. He bit and scratched at those he could and struck out with his tail as he fled. 

His whole focus was on trying to get home.

Finally, chest heaving, he hooked his arms over the ship’s side and made to pull himself up and over. He could see the dusky green water below as he moved to launch himself away from the offending beings who had kidnapped him. It was so close….

He pushed off.

One second too late.

As he made to hurdle himself into the ocean, a foot crushed his tail and pressed his delicate fins to the deck. The thrust of his jump for escape caused the soft flesh to rip violently beneath the sailor’s boot. He screamed, back curling up instinctively and causing his ribs to press uncomfortably against the ship’s wood. A single moment was all it took for them to take advantage of his weakness. Almost instantly, another net was thrown over him, dragging him back and away from his freedom.

He screamed, unable to keep a hold on the ship’s side as they heaved him away.

Watching his opportunity vanish, Loki became lost in a flurry of punishing kicks and punches. He embraced himself protectively below them, grunting with each bruising blow. Blood dripped into his eyes as a gnash ripped open above his left brow and he could taste copper on his tongue. One kick hit him heavily in the stomach and he went limp with it as the breath ran from his lungs. Another struck his head and his vision went white with agony, effectively erasing his remaining struggles. 

Seeing that he was momentarily stunned, the men hurriedly went about binding him. The ripped him from the net and efficiently bound his hands tightly in course knots at the base of his back. His eyesight stilled blurred with blood and pain, Loki suddenly felt engulfed in the terrifying feeling of helplessness. The prickle of hot tears began to add to the burn of his emerald orbs and he squeezed his eyes shut.

They hauled him from the wet wooden floor and dragged him over to the ladder that lead below deck. They gave him no chance to recover from his beating, throwing his wounded form bodily down into the hole. He gasped, his lungs seemingly lodging into his throat as gravity pulled him below.  
He hit the ground with a pained grunt, rolling onto his side. 

One of the men jumped down beside him, nearly crushing the merman’s head. Loki gasped, curling in on himself protectively in case an additional husky deckhand followed the first. Luckily, or unluckily, the man pulled him away from the ladder’s base by his long ebony locks before another could climb down. Pressed against a broad chest and pinned there by a muscled arm about his neck, Loki squirmed fearfully as he was dragged deeper and deeper into the belly of the vessel. There was little light, given only by flickering flames in rusted lanterns and the dark atmosphere seemed to choke the captive merman.

When they finally halted, he watched them unlock the door to a large, metal cage, the ground within soaked beneath about a half an inch of water. It would be just enough to keep him from drying out completely. There was a set of shackles looped around the bars by a set of chains. They heaved him forward, into the horrible prison and threw him down.  
His stomach dropped when he realized that they meant to keep him in the bowels of the ship for an unknown amount of time, likely alone and in the dark. Heart thudding heavily against his ribcage, he cried out in fear and resumed his struggling avidly. He didn’t want this. He wanted to go home, to feel the currents of the ocean and to be with his father and brothers. They didn’t understand. 

He couldn’t endure this.

But it was useless. He stood no chance against them.

His captors, each armed with four, strong, unbound and capable limbs, dominated him with nearly no effort. He was literally out of his element, surrounded by strangers with no one to give him aid. Pinned, he was forced to remain still as they cut the ropes at his back and pulled his wrist to his front. Metal cuffs encircled one thin limb, and then the other and clicked into place tightly. 

Once he was secured, they released him and backed away. He shuffled frantically to the corner of his prison, curling his bright tail close to his body defensively and testing his chains. His wide, green eyes flickered between each of the large men as they retreated. The last was tall, burley and marked with tattoos. He slammed the door to the cage shut forcefully, eyeballing the merman as he nursed a bruised eye. He shoved a key into the lock and then held it up, putting on display for the captive by his leering smile.  
He muttered something in a mocking tone, though the language was one Loki was not familiar with.

He made no response, only continuing to stare back in fear, chest heaving.

Chuckling to himself, the human retreated and followed the others as they ascended the ladder to the deck above. In the distance, Loki could hear the excited shouts of the crew, no doubt ecstatic about capturing such a rare being of the sea. 

Loki could not bear to listen to the disorderly festivity that resulted from his imprisonment and turned his attentions elsewhere.

Shivering from pain and the adrenalin coursing through his system, he glanced around the pen. His movements were jerky as grabbed at the bars, yanking and pulling, trying to find a means of escape. Though he used all of his remaining strength, they held without a hint of weakness. Disappointed coursed through him and he gave his chains the same treatment, hoping for a faulty link. But like the cage, they didn’t yield. Still determined and desperate, he bit furiously at the cuffs around his wrists, trying to find a weakness. His slightly pointed teeth only scraped over the metal, not even leaving a mark.

He stopped and rested his forehead against the metal bindings, his quaking hands reaching up to cling to the cage. A shaky breath escaped from shivering lips and he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself.

He couldn’t believe it. One moment he had been free, the next….

It had happened so fast.

The weather had been far warmer since the summer seasons had commenced. Ever since he had been but a little pup, Loki had enjoyed swimming to the surface of the ocean and breaking through its watery shell to enjoy the open air. It was relaxing, though strikingly different from the flowing atmosphere of his ocean home. There was a small island, perhaps only a mile or two long, that he had found during one of his earliest visits and had come to frequent passionately. He had loved the change and had embraced every  
chance to lie upon it’s sandy beaches.

Of course, with each journey to the surface, Loki didn’t stay in the open sun too long. Merfolk did not do well in the sunlight. Their skin was soft and unused to the direct waves of the sun. They burned quickly and often became too dehydrated on land. It was not a common thing for his kind to shed their tails and walk on land, as the sea was their natural home and its dangers were known to them.

His father had warned him of the hazards above water. But Loki was careful. He made sure not to be in the open too long. He stayed alert.

But all it took was one time. One moment of stupidity…

He had been breathing the beautiful open air and relishing in the feeling of his lungs pumping within his breast when he broke the surface. The gills along his sides had closed, and the sensation of the pulsing organs coming to life had him enthralled. Laying beneath the shade of some palm trees, he had become drowsy. His glistening tail dipping into the salt water as he lounged comfortably on soft sand between some rocks. He hadn’t seen the harm in giving into relaxation this one time.

But falling asleep had been the biggest mistake of his young life.

The ship must have spotted him from afar or perhaps they had simply wished to visit the island. He guessed that they had come ashore from another spot and had crept upon his slumbering form. Loki didn’t know. He had woken when a course net had been thrust over his body, dragging him from the beach and fully into the water. He had scrambled into consciousness, groggily grabbing at the stones that aligned the shore where he napped. Panic had clouded his tired mind as he was thrust into wakefulness. His fingers had given way and slipped, leaving him to their mercy.

Loki sighed to himself and closed his eyes to the darkness around him.

His torn fin smarted with discomfort. He opened his eyes, curling his tail close so he could observe the wound.

Gingerly, he released the bars and strained with the chains to prod it with gentle fingers. He whimpered as it throbbed more intensely at the touch. He glanced around the bare prison. There was nothing to bind it with, and no weeds or clays to alleviate the pain. Biting his lip, he pressed a pale hand to the wound and held it there. If nothing else, he would try to keep the injury from getting any worse.

The rest of his body was in pain as well, as from the moment they had grappled him off the beach they had been exceedingly rough with their captive.

When they had first surrounded him with some men in a paddle boat holding the lead of the net, he fought. The rest had stood in the sand, kicking and prodding him back into the water and towards the small vessel. A few of them had sticks and had thwacked at him, herding him offshore. Twisting and writhing in the woven mesh, they hauled him through the ocean and towards their large, wooden craft., all the while striking him with their oars. Try though he might, the merman hadn’t been able to free himself as they drew him up and over the side of the ship, effectively kidnapping him from his aquatic home.

He shouldn’t have fallen asleep.

Taking in a shuddering breath, he pressed on his wound harder, hissing at the pain, but thankful for the shocking feeling. He couldn’t handle the emotions swelling in him at the moment and the pain was a good distraction. He sat, listening to the excited crew above as a numbness came over him. The depth of his situation dawned and he struggled to smother his distress. 

Eventually, he laid down in the dank smelling water, hugging his elegant appendage to his pale chest and stared into the shadows.

~~~~~~*~~~~~~  
After about an hour or so of sitting alone and in the dim light, Loki’s ears caught a sound different from the revelry. Having been forced to listen to the rowdy sea men above, the sloshing of waves against wood and the constant creaking of beams for an unprecedented amount of time, he perked up at the sound of heavy boots. He sat up once more, fins twitching in anticipation as the new human came into sight.

Instantly, he knew that this one was unlike the others.

The sailors who had been responsible for his capture had been rough and dressed in simple cotton shirts and pants, held up by belts. They had boots of strong leather, with ink patterns and scars all over their husky bodies. As harsh sea men of the waves, they were forged in hardship and struggle. But that wasn’t what made this man different. He was just as thick, and just as marked up as the rest of them. His clothes, while the product of a finer tailor and quality than perhaps the rest, were not unique. 

He had a magnificent coat of black dyed leather, and his boots climbed up to his knees, with trousers tucked under their folds. He had a face of dark scruff and his hair was cut short, almost completely shaven off. Three bald lines rounded the side of his head from the brow to the back of his skull. He had dark powder around his eyes and ink curling up his throat. His face was sunken and his lips were thin. Almost every finger bore jeweled, golden rings and his right ear was pierced with multiple hoops and studs. Some of the other sailors had had ornaments such as this, but not to the same extent.

But what terrified Loki more than the man’s appearance, was the undoubting aura of dominance he carried. This man was no follower. He was a leader, the one who gave commands and anticipated his word to be followed without delay. He expected to be obeyed. 

The merman watched as the human walked close and wrapped a tattooed hand around one of the bars. He peered into the cage as he hung another lantern on a low beam, brightening through the darkness. The scales of Loki’s tail glistening like fractured sapphires and emeralds in the low glow. 

The man’s mouth cracked into a crooked smile under a hawking nose.

He spoke, voice guttural and deep, in a language that Loki did not understand. The same dialect as the others no doubt. The merman watched him through green, hooded eyes, thinning his lips as he made no indication of understanding.

The man frowned at the lack of response. Muttering to himself before opening his mouth again.

“What is your name?” He furrowed his brow. “Can you understand me?”

Loki’s heart dropped as the words met his ears, this time comprehensible. He honestly hadn’t been expecting to distinguish anything the human said. His blood ran cold and he glanced away.

Evidently, the human noticed his shock, and he grinned again.

“So you can understand me.” He said, tapping a finger against the metal bars that separated them. “I wasn’t sure if your kind spoke any of the languages of men. Thankfully, I know many.”

Loki kept his gaze on his clenched hands.

“Again, what is your name?”

Silence.

The man shifted his weight, eyeballing the quietly resistant captive. He huffed a gentle laugh, shaking his head. The prisoner made an extra effort not to react, keeping his breathing even.

“Fine. Keep your precious name. I’ll have your tongue wagging later.” Loki swallowed at the meaning behind the words, fins twitching minutely in nervousness as he continued. “I hardly believe it when Nilg came clambering to my cabin, interrupting my much-needed sleep and telling me he caught a fish-man. Nearly bashed his head in. You’re a thing of myth and legends, fish-boy. Like giants and elves, only you’re real.”

Loki wasn’t sure was elves or giants were, but he definitely didn’t like being called a “fish-boy”.

The man reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a large ring of keys. Loki watched with anticipation crawling up his back as the human picked through the keys. He selected the one for the cage and shoved it into the lock, turning it so that the gadget gave way with a metallic clang. With a forceful push, the cage door swung open.  
Suddenly panicked, Loki hurriedly shuffled deeper into the corner, terrified as his captor moved forward in large strides.

He tried to shrink further when the man thrust his hand forward, snatching him by his ebony hair and lifting him bodily. Gasping in pain, Loki tried to grab at the offending wrist with his bound hands, tail sloshing through the water in jolting, frightened movements.

Forcefully tilting the merman’s head back, the man drew him close, studying Loki in the dim light. The sea creature froze, chest heaving in panic.

“You’re very beautiful.” A thick finger traced Loki’s arching cheekbones, the appendage travelling lightly down his neck and halting at the dip of his collarbone. Dark eyes then fell on the shivering tail and the human’s free hand touched it lightly, palming it freely. “Magnificent.” 

Loki jumped to life at the grouping, earnestly trying to wriggle away. The man released him suddenly and Loki fell back, drawing in on himself defensively. He hissed in fright, flapping his fins with agitation. His injury stung, but his fear overwhelmed the pain.

The man laughed, finding Loki’s frantic actions delightfully amusing. He raised his hands in a placating way, smiling widely.

“Calm down. I’m not going to hurt you.” He cocked his head, meeting Loki’s piercing glare evenly. “Well, not yet. Not if you do as you are told. I’m willing to give you a reprieve for now, considering the drastic change of scenery you’ve just experienced. But you need to calm down.”

Loki grit his teeth and scowled at the human. He didn’t understand what exactly the man meant, but he was certain his intentions were far from pure. He slapped his tail at the man’s legs, causing him to stumble. The human huffed a laugh and caught himself with the bars of the cage.

Once he had righted himself he turned a pair of piercing eyes on the merman. Despite the apparent chuckle, the darkness in the man’s face betrayed any sense of amusement.  
One of the heavily jeweled hands came down, striking Loki harshly across the face. His head snapped to the side, bouncing hard against the side of the cage with an audible crack. The action caused his eyes to blur and sting with hot tears for the second time that day. Dazed by the blow, he looked up blearily, crimson blood once again slipping down his chin from a jagged rip in his lip.

The man bent down grasping Loki’s chin in his hand and running his thumb over the blood. He smeared it across the white skin of Loki’s chin. He smiled, biting his tongue lightly between his teeth. 

“I told you to calm down.” He reached up and caressed Loki’s head, ignoring the flinch the merman gave at the contact. The human sighed, cocking his head to the side and raising an observant brow. “You’ll learn eventually. I don’t tend to tolerate unruly slaves.”


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes or oddities I may have missed in editing. Not a lot of dialogue in this chapter.

Loki wasn’t sure how long they left him in the hold. It felt like days since he had been captured. Multiple bruises had blossomed over his body as a result of the beating he had endured, but they had already begun to fade with time. The cuts and scrapes were mending as well, crusting over with dried blood though he tried to keep the wounds clean. His shredded fin had also begun to heal. Although the merman was almost certain it would scar, he was grateful that it no longer stung terribly with every movement.

For the most part, he was left alone in his misery. 

Hunger had become a constant nuisance that he unsuccessfully tried to shove in the back of his mind. 

One of the men had made a few efforts to feed him. He had come bearing raw fish and round, white objects that Loki presumed to be eggs of some sort. Most eggs he encountered beneath the waves were soft, with a jelly-like substance for protection. Still, it held the basic identifiers as the ones in the ocean with a few differences. This one was hard, unyielding and rolled about when he dropped it. Ocean eggs generally stuck to the surfaces in which they were laid and if they came loose, they would gently fall to the sea’s floor without harm. When Loki squeezed one of them between his fingers it broke apart, the inside rubbery, thick and ultimately undesirable. He wondered how a hatchling could come from something that seemed so unyielding.

He had been horrified at what the sailor had presented as dining options. He and most merfolk ate the vegetation of the ocean, and only a few choice marine creatures on occasion. Sometimes celebrations called for shellfish and clams, but such meats were reserved for the warriors. It was necessary for them to maintain their strength and only one of status could eat meat. To take life, one must be in the position to preserve it, making the warriors worthy. Though Loki was nearly of the age of being christened as such, he was not yet a solider and therefore flesh was something he had never consumed before.

And he had never imagined his first time eating such to be in captivity.

The humans hadn’t even given him a tool in which to pry the fish open to get at the meat. His people used sharpened shells or stones when savaging and preparing for food. It made digging up water shrubs and vegetation easier, and it aided in portioning their foods and plucking bones from the fish they did consume. 

Did they think him a savage?

But starvation was a fierce enemy and Loki’s hunger pushed him to turn to the fish he was tossed. Breaking the the code of his people seemed like the lesser evil of the two choices, as the eggs were but infants and Loki couldn’t bring himself to eat them. With nothing to slice the fish open with, he was forced to bite into slimy skin with his teeth and try to tear it away. It was messy and disgusting, but he did what he could. Eventually, and with patience, he was able to pry bony chunks of meat from the corpses. They went down his throat in oily lumps and he gagged at the sensation. 

Everything was different above water. 

The simplest tasks had to be done differently. The ocean provided more fluidity to a person’s actions, whereas the quick gravity of the surface demanded precision. The grease and blood that ran down Loki’s arms as he ate would have just drifted off in the currents of the water. But within the confines of the boat and without the pressure of the sea on him at all sides, the grease stuck to his skin. The blood from his injuries would have washed away as well, having no chance to dry and crack on his skin as it had. Thankfully, Loki had spent enough time on his little island to understand he would have to make an effort to keep clean. But having been born and raised beneath the seas he was still somewhat clumsy with the change. He did what he could to keep himself presentable, but his efforts were amateur at best.

The man hadn’t returned to take away the remains of the fish or eggs after he threw them to Loki. The sea creature guessed he had been expected to devour every part of the vittles without leftovers. The spoiling food had begun to smother the air with a decaying, rotten odor from the far corner where Loki had tossed them. Defenseless against the airborne smell, Loki tried to smother the scent by hiding his nose within his hands. It wasn’t a successful defense, but it eased the stink somewhat.

The rocking of the boat was both a blessing and a curse. 

Sometimes, it was kind. 

Its steady lull would remind him of the currents of his home, allowing him to fall into a sleep easily. He didn’t sleep comfortably in his captive state, considering his bruised body and chained hands, but the familiar sway of the boat occasionally permitted him with resting, dreamless slumber. He would curl up, head on his arms, and sleep. It was often that he dreamt of home and rescue.

Still, sometimes the tipping became too rough or too jarring, sliding him all about his prison. He would cling to the bars then, anchoring himself to keep from being slamming about chaotically as the ship moved in the rough seas. It would last for hours sometimes, leaving his arms numb from being wrapped about the bars so long. He would get no rest, eyes weighted and face gaunt with exhaustion.

However, the worst of his predicament was the profound loneliness and fear that never dulled. 

Merfolk were sociable, relying on physical contact for reassurance of companionship and acceptance. Loki had always been a bit of a loner and tended to keep to himself, but he was still a merman. It was written in his biology to be near others. He may not have craved touch as much as his kin, but he would still seek out his brothers or father for contact when he needed it. More often his brothers than his father, as Laufey had always seemed a bit too intimidating. Being shy, it wasn’t often he found himself clasped in the big merman’s grip, especially as he grew older.

Loki had no one in the confines of the ship’s bowels to seek comfort from. Not even his dominating father. Given the situation, he would have settled for anyone who signified safety and freedom. He couldn’t stand the solitude.

It was nearly unbearable.

Loki had no idea what the red-coated sailor wanted from him. He didn’t know where they were taking him. He didn’t know what “coin” was or why the man had claimed that Loki would be so influential in getting him it as he rambled about his ‘glorious find’. Hell, he didn’t know much of anything about his abductors, but he understood the basic concept of his position. Here, he was nothing more than a prisoner and if the human had anything to say about it, he was property.

The idea of being made subject to these men, so brutish and harsh, scared him to the marrow of his bones. They were unpredictable and so very foreign to anything he was used to. He vowed to slip away the first chance he got, even if he had to fight with everything he had to regain his freedom. 

But captivity is taxing, and existing on the edge of starvation, confinement and sleeplessness effectively lowered any chance he had at escape.

He wondered if he ever would see home again.

It had been another long day for Loki. The sea beyond the wooden walls were calm and gentle, permitting him to be able to stretch out across the cage without fear of being thrown recklessly about. He had his arms crossed over the floorboards and his stomach resting in the shallow water. His chin rested on his arms and he had taken to amusing himself by watching the edge of a tarp sway back and forth with the boat’s movements. He hummed lowly under his breath, a mellow, sorrowing tune.

He had no stimulation in captivity and made do with what his bleak surroundings had to offer.

Still, he halted his music immediately when he heard the stomping of descending boots. 

He twisted up, pulling back into his corner as he watched two men draw near. The first had been the man who fed Loki his spoiled meals. He had introduced himself as “Nilg” after the first visit. The second sailor was the shaven, black-eyed human who had split his lip all those days ago. Loki still didn’t know who the man was however, nor what his seemingly important role upon the ship was. He hadn’t seen him since he had been caged. 

He froze as they unlocked the door and they made their way into his confined space.

Nilg came close, grabbing him tightly by his bound wrists and hauling from the safety of his corner. Loki trembled in the man’s callused hands, but allowed himself to be dragged from the wall. It took everything in him to remain placated. His purpling bruises from the beating the crew had delivered were still in his mind and he had no wish to end up with more injuries. He held still as his cuffs were unlocked from the cage and reattached at Loki’s front.

“Gods, it stinks in here.” The coated human said, wrinkling his nose. “Send someone in here to clean this up. And be careful with him...”

Nilg tossed him before the other man and Loki collapsed against the wooden boards. He hunched his head between his shoulders impulsively, unsure of what his kidnappers wanted. Black boots came into his vision and he looked up, meeting the black-haired sailor’s gaze.

Nilg huffed. 

“He’s sturdier than he looks, Captain.” 

“Be that as it may, any undo damage is best avoided.” The baritone voice was light and there was a twinkle in the man’s dark eyes as they settled over Loki’s mythical form. “I trust you’ve been behaving?”

Loki glanced away, ducking his head. 

The man hummed a breath at the continuing silence of his prisoner, shaking his head. He reached down, grabbing the captive by his hair and forcefully angling the marine creature’s face back towards him. Loki trilled quietly in pain, gritting his teeth.

“Don’t be stubborn. Nilg here tells me you haven’t been eating much. You wanna let me know why that is?” The Captain paused, raising a ringed finger and stooping close to the merman. “And admirable as your persistence is, I suggest you answer me. As I just said, I don’t want to harm you.”

Clenching his fists, Loki squeezed his eyes shut. His chest shuddered with small pants and he swallowed thickly. Doing his best to smother his pride, he parted his quivering lips.

“I-I am not accustomed to eating flesh.”

The Captain smiled widely as the melodic voice reached his ears. It was soft, though not lacking in masculinity, and it carried a pleasant lightness to it. It was sweet in its own way, carrying a curling accent, unique to the people of the sea. Enthralled in the sound, the large sailor reached down and brushed his hand free hand against the merman’s cheek.   
Loki stilled under the touch, fear biting into his heart.

“I had imagined many things for when you parted those pretty lips, Little Fish, but that surpassed anything I could have thought up. You truly are a prize. I’m looking forward to what else you can do with that musical voice of yours.” He released his hold on Loki’s hair, straightening to stand over the merman. “I can’t say that I’m surprised that pickled eggs and fish wouldn’t appease a creature as gorgeous as you. A being as beautifully thin as you couldn’t be eating anything other than vegetarian.” He pursed his lips. “But I’m going to need you healthy. Nilg with get you something more suitable. Any particular preferences? Fruit? Vegetables?”

Loki looked at the human with a blank stare. He had no comprehension of what fruits or vegetables are, though as long as they were not meat, he supposed he didn’t care. Instead, his mind was ringing with the man’s dominating words of promise. It took everything within him not to display the panic he felt over his features. The Captain spoke of using him in manners the merman did not understand. There were undertones that suggested the human had specific ideas in mind, ideas Loki had little hope of discovering before the sailor deemed it appropriate. 

Being left in the dark over his own future was horrifying. 

Still young in his life, Loki had never truly thought about what paths he would like to explore once his father had deemed him old enough to truly be out on his own. He had always assumed he would find a female who would suite his needs as a mate. He would love her and she would love him and together they would have a few pups. Together they would raise their offspring, teaching them how to scavenge for food and where it was best to swim. Not that he had any particular mermaid awaiting his return with anxious fluttering. Loki had never been in a female’s embrace, not even that of his mother’s. Mermen were all he had ever truly known.

His father was the leader of their cluster of merfolk. He and Loki’s brothers were the part of guardians of their people, keeping them safe and fending off sharks and other vicious fish. In the far reaches of his mind, Loki supposed he was to follow them as he grew. He had never really given it much thought though, and the idea of now having that choice stripped from him was somehow tragic. 

Loki knew he couldn’t escape as long as he was below deck. 

Chained and locked in a cage, he knew that even if he could dry out enough to shed his tail into legs, he would be too weak to break free. Besides, his legs would be rubbery and close to useless from lack of exercise to assist him much. The humans had even opted to leave him mostly unguarded due to this obvious inability to walk. He was unsure if they knew his tail doubled as limbs, and they probably assumed with such a large tail and no water, he had no chance of escape. He’d have to drag himself all the way up to the main deck without getting caught. He hated to prove them right. But in his current predicament, he couldn’t help but feel unable to help himself.

The Captain cleared his throat and Loki’s eyes snapped up, wide and fearful. The man raised his brow meaningfully and it was then that the merman realized that the sailor was still waiting for him to answer his question. He had unintentionally thinned his lips, thinking the inquiry was rhetorical.

Not desiring to starve to death, he cleared his throat, glancing over to where Nilg silently watched him from the corner. The man sneered and Loki’s eyes slipped away.

“Kelp.” He whispered softly.

The Captain pursed his lips at the answer, releasing his grip on the ebony locks.

“You mean seaweed?”

Loki frowned, confused at the word. But, he supposed, it wasn’t an inaccurate description.

He nodded hesitantly.

The man crossed his arms over his chest and shrugged, looking over at Nilg with a halfway grin. The other sailor grumbled under his breath, shaking his head and glaring at the merman. Loki was unsure of what exactly he had done to cause such reactions and he hugged his arms close to his body just in case either of his captors went violent.

“Well, we’ll get you something that should work.” The Captain eventually said, looking at Nilg with a clear command in his eyes. 

At first, the man frowned deeply, protest clear in his posture. It was blatant that he was too interested in Loki to want to go. But the Captain’s dark eyes became piercing at the lack of direct compliance. That was all it took. Nilg grunted at the look and stomped begrudgingly out of the cage. 

Loki watched him go with hooded eyes.

“In the meantime…” The Captain smiled, crouching down to the marine creature’s level so that Loki could see every crevice, flaw and scar on the man’s face. “I’m going to set down a few ground rules for you to follow. I’ve been merciful up until this point, but after I lay everything out, each broken rule will be punished as I see fit. Understand?”

Loki glowered, his voice low and soft.

“What do you want from me? Why did you take me?” 

Somewhat surprised at Loki’s sudden willingness to speak, the Captain chuckled.

“What do I want from you?” 

Anger prickled lightly in Loki’s chest at the human’s antagonizing attitude, but he nodded.

“Well, I’d say it’s rather simple.” He nudged the merman’s shoulder with a fisted hand, brushing knuckles against soft skin. “I want you to do as I say, make me a profit and give my name a bit more value. I also want to learn about your people. Your numbers, your culture, what you eat, I want to know everything about you.” He paused. “And you could start by giving me your name.”

He flashed his dark eyes, meeting the emerald orbs of his captive.

“I don’t know yours.” Loki countered daringly, testing the waters. 

This human expected him to give every detail about his kin, his life and he intended to use him for nothing more than a means to further himself. He had already taken what was not freely given, holding Loki against his will. If he expected the merman to surrender everything that made him who he was and do it willingly, he was stupidly confident. Loki wouldn’t, not without a fight. He didn’t know what the human wanted the information for. Perhaps he hoped to hunt for merfolk, and that would not be something Loki could abide by. If it means protecting his family, and Loki knew he would suffer before betraying them.

In the merman’s eyes, the very least the Captain could do after forcing Loki to endure so much was give him a name. 

The human bit his lip cheekily, apparently enjoying the rebellious banter that his captive had begun to provide after such an extended course of silence.

He pressed a hand to his chest in introduction before gesturing around him.

“My name is Arian and I’m the Captain of this ship.” He leaned closer, his breath hot on the bound being’s face. “Now, I asked you for your name.”

Uncomfortable at the closeness, the merman pulled away slightly. He glowered at the human.

“Loki.” 

“Loki” Arian sat back and tested the name on his tongue. “It suits you.”

Laufey had often said the same. 

But hearing his name spoken with so much relish by his man only made him want to gag.

“I want you to know, Loki, that you’ll be well cared for under my ownership.” Arian clucked his tongue playfully. “Provided you do as you are told, I can promise a good life for you.”

“I had a life, human, before you tore me from it.” 

“Perhaps. But that only makes you more valuable to me.” Arian said, callously. “I want to learn from your experiences.”

Shifting, Loki glowered.

“I will not share them willingly.”

The Captain laughed, tossing his head back before nodding in agreement.

“Oh, I know that. Your stubbornness has not gone unseen, little fish. It is something I will have to work with. But even so, you will learn that I can either be a friend, or an enemy. It all depends on you. I do have rules. Learn to live within the guidelines I set, and you will be treated well, perhaps even granted a comfortable existence.”

Rearing his head up to meet his captor’s eye, the merman presented himself proudly, jaw clenching.

“And should I chose not to live as the pet you would have me be?”

The seemingly permanent smile that ghosted the human’s lips faded with the words and a cloud covered his feature, darkening his face. He stepped closer, the water sloshing under his boots at the sudden movement. He leaned down, grabbing the merman by the throat in a firm grasp. Loki found himself once again pinned to the wall and he swallowed thickly, wide eyes looking at the human.

“Then you will learn the consequences of not allowing me to have what I want.”

With a cold smile, he squeezed the prisoner’s air passage shut.

Loki panicked instantly, struggling to push the Captain away. On instinct, he began beating at the man’s chest with his chained hands, pushing and twisting to get released. The muscled man used his free hand to catch the flailing limbs, having no issue with forcing Loki’s smaller body to the floor and pinning his arms above his head. His years of being a boatman and hauling ropes had left him strong. Stronger than Loki expected.

Being above water meant that the gills along Loki’s side had closed and that he was reliant upon receiving oxygen the way humans did. However, being pressed onto the floor and in a good half inch of water, his gills blossomed along his sides once again. Unfortunately, this didn’t aid him. In his writhing this gills couldn’t perform their job due to the lack of being consistently under water. But he was unable to help himself, panic having taken over his mind.

If Arian noticed the gills he didn’t make reveal it. His grip tightened and Loki doubled his struggles.

He was suffocating.

Terrified, Loki grabbed at the collar of the Captain’s shirt, moist green eyes looking up pleadingly. The man met his gaze manically, eyes wide and a smirk plastered over his face. He was enjoying the torment his prisoner was caught up in. It was as if he was getting a rush from the feeling of control. He relished in having this power, embraced the feeling of being dominant. Even in his mind-riddled fright Loki to acknowledge that this human was a complete sadist. From what the merman had seen of the man, he presented himself well and seemed to have a spirited personality. 

But beneath that?

Strangling the merman was a pleasurable experience for him.

Captain Arian liked inflicting this torture.

Mind deprived of oxygen, Loki could feel himself growing limp. His limbs were beginning to feel rubbery and weighted. Despite the Captain’s previous words, the merman was certain that he was about to die. Alone, held down by a strange man and miles away from his home, he mourned for himself. He had lived so little in his short life, never truly having the chance to embrace the wonderful world that had surrounded his home. Now, he was going to die and there would be no body for his family to shelter under the rocks.  
His soul would wander the seas aimlessly.

Loki’s bound hands collapsed away from the humans clothing and his eyes fluttered.

Just as everything was going black, the human released his neck and stepped away. 

Immediately, Loki arched up, taking in a gasping, desperate gulp of air. He curled beneath the Captain, heaving violently with choking coughs as he tried to regain his breath. His arms and head felt numb and his movements were sluggish. His head was pounding with agony.

Arian licked his lips and reached down, brushing away a lock of black hair that had plastered to the captive’s face in the struggle. Loki flinched instinctively at the movement, anticipating a far worse outcome.

“You will learn.” A smile carved into the human’s handsome features. “The level of comfort you will experience from now on will depend entirely on you. Obedience is rewarded, defiance is punished. You’ll find that I am not an unfair Master to live under. Provided you behave, you may even live happily. Any harm or discomfort you endure will be of you own making.”

He swatted the wheezing captive lightly, grinning as if his action was like that between friends and not a captor and his caged slave.

“You understand that, don’t you?”

Loki curled tighter in on himself, trying to hide his face between his chained arms unsuccessfully. His ribcage pulsed with erratic breaths. The terrifying thought that he had nearly died throbbed violently through his mind and made every nerve in his body hyper aware. He barely registered what the human said, having a hard time completely comprehending the jovial tone after such a traumatic experience.

The man was mad.

Almost as if he read Loki’s innermost thoughts Arian snarled. He grabbed the merman’s hands and painfully pinned them once more above his head and settled into a straddling position over the sea creature’s form. Loki gasped fearfully, cringing as the human leaned down, his lips brushing over the captive’s delicate ear.

“Use your words, Loki.” He said heavily, amusingly. “I want to hear that lovely voice of yours. Do you understand?”

Loki whimpered in pain, gritting his teeth.

“I understand.” 

*I understand that you are mad and cruel, and that I will never be content with you.*

A huff of harsh laughter.

“One more time now. I want it to be clear.”

The merman panted heavily, tail twitching uncomfortably under the man.

“I understand.”

*I will return to the sea.*

“Excellent.” 

The Captain released him and Loki twisted away, terrified of letting the man see the tears of frustration and anger that the assault had caused to prickle at his eyes. Humiliated as he already was, the mer creature had no desire to fuel the human’s sick thrill of causing him further pain. He gently caressed his sore throat with long fingers, already certain that the skin would be a new shade of green by the day’s end.

Luckily, Arian made no move to touch him again and instead stood up and stepped away, evidently satisfied with his work. 

“It’s going to take some time, Little Fish, but once we groom out the finer details of your training, you’re going to make a fine catch.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My own twist with the merfolk not commonly eating fish. This topic will be further explored. Also, don't worry. The story will progress.


	3. 3

The “grooming”, as the Captain had put it, had turned out to be sessions of mental poking, prodding and utter humiliation for the young merman. Solitude and privacy were ripped from Loki with the consistent presence of a guard. Arian had decided that he was too valuable to be left alone and had ordered the prisoner be watched always. This was borne not only from a need for security, but also from a desire to learn. The human was set on revealing every little, intimate part of his captive.

When the marine creature had bodily needs to care for, he wasn’t granted modesty or humane curtesy. Instead, prying eyes on curious faces peered between the bars, soaking in the unique details of the creature’s body though he tried to shield himself. When he was tired and in need of sleep, he was subjected to the noisy presence of the humans, sometimes through intention and more often out of boredom. Having nothing to do besides watch him in his chains, Loki became subjected to their musings. They asked him things, tried to pull reactions out of him through crude words, though he did not always understand their language. They gestured to his fair complexion and lean body in ways that made him feel ill and horrified. He never spoke back to them. Permitting they made no effort to physically harm him, he chose to ignore their existence. 

Silence, however, can be an extremely difficult to inflict on one’s self when under constant pressure. It was often he found himself on the verge of snapping at the men, wanting to threaten and snarl openly at them.

But he withheld the undignified urge.

In between his periods of being so wretchedly caged, the Captain had maintained a strict visitation schedule. Usually he would send the guard away and simply talk, though Loki remained skittish and wary of the man. He was bombarded with questions on both his anatomy and the methods of his people. He asked about strange things, like the birthing process of merfolk and the societal rankings they held. Loki didn’t understand the importance of such things. With each mumbled, hesitant response, the man eagerly weighed the answers against humanity, scribbling them down in a leather clad book. Thankfully the Captain’s inquiring was far more elegant and courteous, however personal it got, unlike the brutes who served beneath him. 

Loki bore it as best he could, speaking sparingly and cautiously, being careful not to do something that ignited the man’s desire to touch him again. The man kept his hands to himself, seemingly only interested in gathering as much data from his prisoner as possible.

However, maintaining such distances permanently were a hope that was too good to be true.

“Aperire.”

Loki’s head snapped up at the word, fear flashing in his gleaming eyes. He pressed himself against the back wall of his prison as he watched the man who was set to guard him that day obey the order.

The human pulled the metal door aside with a metallic creak and allowed the Captain to slip through. It had been days since the cage door had last been opened. The toned form of the human towered over the merman in the dim lanternlight as the man neared and the he flinched as a calloused pair of hands reached down and took a firm hold on pale arms. Frightened and tail flapping in agitation, but also cautious of the man’s temper, Loki permitted himself be dragged from the safety of his confinement with barely contained horror. 

Once out of the cell, the guard grabbed at Loki as well and he cringed at the rough touch.

There were no words spoken to reassure the captive’s thoughts as he was bodily hauled across the wooden boards and over to the ascending ladder that lead to the next deck. Light beamed down on Loki’s head from above from another lantern and he winced, trying unsuccessfully to shield his eyes against the sudden glare after so long in the darkness.  
They dropped him and then the captain climbed ahead of him, the guard taking up the rear below with Loki. The burly man kept his grip on the merman’s raven hair, ensuring that the prisoner made no struggle. He didn’t, unwilling to anger the human. He curled at the bottom of the ladder, using his bound hands to shield his face from the man lest he kick him.

“Alright.” Arian’s voice sounded from above. “Gedman, get over here and give Tommy a hand in getting him up.”

“Aye, sir.”

“Suscitat arma.”

The man at Loki’s back forced his hands away from his face and lifted them, stretching his arms high above his head.

Hands reached down from above and grabbed tightly onto Loki’s raised hands. Nails dug into his skin as he was hauled suddenly and pulled up. He clenched his eyes tightly against the men’s faces and made no effort to struggle as he was pulled onto the floorboards of the deck. They then proceeded to drag him once more like a wet sack to the next ladder.

They continued in this grueling and bruising fashion for another two set of ladders before they finally pulled him onto the main deck. 

The warmth of sunlight graced over Loki’s face as he was dropped to the floorboards, the sound of crashing waves whispering in his ears.

“Take him to my quarters.”

The men holding him adjusted their grip and hooked their hands under his arms, lifting him from the ground. He hunched his head between his shoulders and pried his eyes open. All around, grimy, bearded and wide-eyed faces stared back at him, all gawking and muttering amongst themselves. They were in awe of his fantastical body and tail, gleaming sapphire and emerald. Yet even as beautiful and surreal as they found him, Loki still remembered the brutality they had shown him at the time of his kidnapping. His body still bore the marks of their violence. His mind still recalled their eager, cruel faces.

As rare and as dreamlike as they had found him, they had had no qualms with beating him bloody. Their wonder was not complementary, but a simple definition of the foolishness of human fear in the face of the new or unknown.

Eyes watering in the glare of the sun, he numbed himself to their eyes and whispers, instead choosing to take in the refreshing sea air and relish the experience of being outside the hold.

It was beautiful, and oh so very familiar. Between the bodies of hulking sailors, he could see the rail of the ship, and just beyond he could see the blue waves of the ocean. Home was so close, and yet he was bound and cut off from the freedom it provided. 

How he longed to return to the comfort those waters provided.

Had he the ability to return, he would never make an effort to leave it again. He would banish the idea of exploration for the security of his family and friends. He would never visit his island again, let alone break through the surface. He would dedicate himself to becoming a warrior and devise ways to protect his people from the evil humans who drifted above.

Would. Would. Would.

There is no point in wishing for things you no longer have the means to provide or take appreciation of. Now there was no family to reassure him, nor were their friends to warn against the world above the sea. He was alone. Utterly and completely alone.

He had taken so much for granted.

Something snapped inside of Loki at the idea and desperation flooded into his system as he was pulled away from the ocean.

He had lost it all in his foolishness. He may never be free again.

No. He could not accept that.

Loki snarled, pulling and thrashing against their hold, hoping the sudden change would trip them up so he could slip out of their hands. But unfortunately, they seemed to sense and expect his rebellion, their grip tightening around his limbs and keeping him steadfast. Weak as he was, he stood little to no chance at escaping them. They were well-fed, bulking sailors and he had been confined for days in the dark depth of their vessel. Hunger and lack of exercise on his part gave them the upper hand. Still, he yanked and hissed, using all his strength.

But it had no effect. They knew now to steer clear of his lashing tail and having multiple sailors keeping him secured, his efforts were in vain. 

Suddenly, something hard struck his flapping tail from behind, beating it and causing him to halt his struggling with a cry of pain.

He gnashed his teeth over his shoulder at the man, eye flashing. 

Nilg chuckled, waving an oar from the ship’s dingy boat.

“Keep it up. You’re not going anywhere, fish.” 

Loki hissed and violently renewed his fighting, only to be struck repeatedly. 

He relented with another yelp of pain.

“Oi! Quod prohibere!” Arian’s voice suddenly sounded, hot and commanding. “I said no undue damage!”

Huffing snarkily, Nilg pulled the oar away.

“Tis’nt undue, Captain. Et in fugam intercluserant.”

“Just get him in here.”

With a heavy heart, the merman took in the sight of the sea, watching as he was hauled away from its beckoning embrace. 

All too soon it disappeared as he was dragged into the depth of the Captain’s quarters. 

He was released suddenly and dropped unceremoniously to the ground. Behind him, the door was shut and secured in place with a metal bolt. He curled in on himself and cringed away from the men by his sides. He folded his smarting tail close, careful to make sure that the clumsiness of human feet did not crush his wounded fin further. Cautious, he glanced about his surroundings, taking in the garnish cabin. 

It was strikingly different from his cage in the hold.

It was decked in silk curtains, decorative rugs and pillows. Not too fashionable or excessive, but it held a comfortable spirit of mixed feelings and cultures. There was an elegantly carved desk with papers, scrolls and maps stacked neatly in a pile on the top. In the corner, a cot folded out from the ship’s wall and it was covered in patterned quilts. 

The room spoke of travel to exotic places and experience in foreign lands. Though all of it was strange and new to Loki, he knew that the Captain had been to many places and had seen a great many things, as there were different styles and patterns. He was a collector with simple tastes. Taking something small and practical from each place he visited. A pillow from this place, a map from that island, and Loki was now his biggest souvenir of all. 

A rock formed in his throat at the idea.

A large wooden tub in the center of the room caught Loki’s eye, as it stood out from all the other wonderful collectables. It wasn’t truly a tub, however, more of a large barrel sawed in half. But Loki honestly knew little of such things. It was not as if merfolk bathed regularly when consistently surrounded by water. However, he had heard of such a practice among humans through the tales he had heard as a child.

Captain Arian was standing beside the tub, hands clasped behind his back and a pleased smile over his face. By his side there stood another man, older and more gangly in his appearance. He held a bundle in his wrinkled fingers and there was an inquisitive gleam in his eyes as he studied the merman. His beady gaze and quivering composure made him seem eager, and it spiked Loki’s discomfort. Evidently, the Captain had called the elderly man into the room for a purpose, and Loki was loathed to uncover what it was.   
He stepped forward and gestured at the sailors, his voice garbled and scratchy as he spoke with a labored breath.

“Get him into the tub, you fools. Celeriter! I won’t have him withering out because of your stupidity!” 

Almost immediately Loki found himself once more being manhandled across the floor. They lifted him up and dropped him into the tub, salty water splashing over the side as he sunk to the bottom. It wasn’t big enough to accommodate his lengthy tail and as a result it arched over the side, his scarred fin hanging just above the floorboards. He didn’t see the two leather bands that were bolted to each side of the tub until they were pinning his arms down and fastening them tightly in place. There was also one by which they secured his tail, though he was unsure of why they would bother. Yes, his appendage was fierce and strong and had struck many of them, but drooping over the edge of the tub like it was? It truly felt useless.

“Comfy?” Arian said, coming to stand in front of the tub. 

He waved the other sailors out of the room with his jeweled hand. The obeyed, sulking out. Nilg cast a leery eye over the merman before trotting away as well, clearly mumbling to himself. The old man followed them, shutting and rebolting the door before turning back to the Captain and captive.

Loki said nothing, glaring.

The dark-haired man broadened his smile, shaking his head.

“Do look so disgruntled.” He nodded to the elderly man by his side, still clutching the bundle to his chest. “This is Grefin. He has a wide variety of skills. One of them is skin art. He’s responsible for most tattoos you’ll see on my men.” The captain laid a friendly hand on the other’s bony shoulder. “He’s even given me a few. He’s one of the best artists I’ve seen.”

Loki eyed the man, taking in the sunken eyes and bent neck. With every breathe the old man wheezed and the quivering never ceased. In fact, it seemed more evident now. He seemed sickly, as well, and Loki wondered if he was close to death. He didn’t understand the purpose of being dragged all the way from the hold to see an aged, shriveling human. 

The Captain seemed to sense his confusion and smirked, gesturing to the black marks that crawled up his neck and curled over his hands.

“You’re getting a tattoo, like these.”

Something cold settled in the pit of Loki’s stomach.

“W-what?”

He watched as Grefin set his bundle on a small table and dragged it close to the tub. He then did the same with a small stool and settled himself beside Loki, beginning to unwrap his parcel and take out the objects within one by one.

There was a small wooden case, carved with winged monsters Loki had never seen or heard of before. The elderly man spread out the cloth over the small table and it was then that Loki saw the glass canister of tiny, pointy metal pieces. He watched as the Grefin opened the case and pulled out a bamboo stick, just as carved and foreign as the box. Without missing a beat the man opened the glass and began to carefully insert the needles into a hole at the end of the stick one at a time, all bodily shaking seemingly to have vanished into nothing.

Horror clouded Loki’s mind as he watched the man take a bottle of ink from the case and begin to drip it carefully into the other end of the bamboo.  
They were going to mutilate him.

That’s why they had tied him down with the strips of leather.

His chest began to pulse with panicked breaths and he looked at the Captain’s markings, horrified that they would force such a thing upon him.  
“Whoa, now.” The Captain came to stand behind Loki, resting his thick hands over the captive’s heaving shoulders. “Calm down. Don’t worry, yours won’t be anything like mine.” He patted the merman’s collar bone. “Yours will be a lot prettier. You’re getting a swallow. Right there.”

He poked Loki’s shoulder and the merman twitched, agitated.

A swallow? 

What in the name of the gods was a swallow?

“It’s a bird.” The Captain said, as if reading the merman’s thoughts. “Violet and green, beautiful tail, it really is quite majestic looking. It’s actually a bit like you in that regard. Unfortunately, yours will simply be black, as that’s the only color that Grefin brought aboard. Still, I trust him to do the image justice.”

The old man grabbed another piece of bamboo, however this piece had a small, round tip. He dipped it into the ink and leaned close to Loki’s left, grabbing a hold of his arm and pulling him close. Hands clenched into tight fists, he flinched as the human began drawing steadily over his skin, occasionally refreshing his ink. He was careful and often halted to blow on the merman’s skin to made sure the ink didn’t drip or smear. Loki flinched and tried to calm his nerves. Once certain that it was dry, the man would continue with his design, never once making eye contact with the prisoner.

Loki observed numbly, trying to remain expressionless.

He had seen relatively few birds in his lifetime…and to have one permanently imprinted on his skin?

“Why?” He questioned, voice low, barely above a whisper.

The Captain didn’t respond immediately, instead waiting for Grefin to finish his markings and begin readying his needled stick. The old man’s concentration narrowed and Loki tensed, pulling away as the tool was brought closer. Arian’s firm grip stopped his retreat however, and Loki cried out when the needles broke skin, settling the ink deep into his flesh.

It stung, in a deliberate and pulsating way. 

His tail bucked as the stabbing motion was repeated and continuous, tears burned in his emerald eyes.

Behind him, the Captain spoke, a smile in his words.

“Others will know you are mine. They will see the mark, see my name and they will know that if they dare to take or touch you, they will be stealing from Captain Arian Swallow.” He leaned close, his scruff scratching at Loki’s neck and ear. “You’re a very rare find, little fish, and I won’t have you taken from my procession by jealous fools. I will protect you from them.”

Every person encountered in the life of an individual, whether in passing or in close quarters, makes an impact on that being’s life. Some moments are small, miniscule, seemingly unimportant, and some are packaged in long timeframes, openly scarring and blatant in appearance. There are times when one can see the influence they make on another, and there are times where a person might never discover the changes that were made due to their action or inaction. But regardless, each and every creature bears some effect on one other.

Loki knew that his captivity, that meeting these humans and being forced away from all those he loved and cared for, would forever be engraved on him. Had he listened to his father, he might not have ever been caged and abused. He not felt the need to be different from the rest, perhaps he would be free. But he didn’t and now this human, muscled and selfish, would not only leave a mental mark that Loki could never hope to be rid of, but also a permanent one upon his body. Eternal reminders of his imprisonment and kidnapping. 

This was ownership. Arian was marking Loki with his label, ensuring that no matter where he went or how far he managed to get from the man, he would forever remain his property. He would never truly be free of him. Even if the man were to die.

It was brilliant and so very cruel. 

A fierce and vicious viper hid behind the Captain’s smiling eyes and lips. Though merman did not know the full extent of the man’s sadism, he did know that he was no more than a prize and a novelty to the human. He did not view Loki as a being capable of thought and love and hurt. He was looked upon as an animal, a unique fish caught up in their nets. Nothing more than a trophy.

To be considered so low, so unhuman, was a terrifying aspect to absorb. 

It meant that they could and would do anything they desired to him. No human would see his situation and take pity. They wouldn’t see him as deserving of it. If anything, he would be considered a pet, much like the crabs Loki used to collect as a hatchling. If he died, they would skin him for his scales and flesh, perhaps making jewelry with his bones and rugs with his hair. His teeth would be ground into potions for ‘youth’ and his eyes and meat would be eaten in their stews. His father had told him tales of how the humans harvested from their animals and he feared to become one of their livestock. 

Laufey, Helblindi, Býleistr, give me courage.

As he sat there, bound to a tub, caressed by a madman and mutilated by an ancient relic of humanity, Loki swore to himself. Torture and abuse, starvation and humiliation, regardless of what his captivity would force him to endure, he would never betray his people. The men could bind him, cook him, violate both his mind and his body, but he would never give them reason to seek out his father or brothers. 

The merfolk of the ocean would never be at risk due to Loki Laufeyson.

The needles pricked again, the pain a mere echo to the agony of his own heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone you reviewed, I really do appreciate hearing from you guys, even if I don't always respond. I read each and every post and I'm glad you're all entertained. With luck, I'll be able to keep up my motivation for writing this story. Sorry for any mistakes or things i missed when editing (there's always something). Constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> R&R  
> -Ireland Ranger-


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